To My Old Scars

When I survey all these wizened scars
that now litter and speckle my body
like laurels on a war veteran’s battle dress
I shudder at those dangerous games
that childhood had played on me to romp
the jungle half naked and barefoot
the streams with deep swirling whorls
the tropical sun with its ultraviolent rays
the mosquito infested swamps I tramped
the careless trod on vipers with lethal fangs

now I tremble at those childish foolhardiness
of which I climbed many tall coconut, mango trees
of the many ugly falls with broken limbs and tears
of the many rivers that could have swallowed me
at venomous snakes that could have bitten me
at malaria that could have snuffed life out of me
I thank God for pardoning my childish exuberance

but if I had passed through life without a scar
would I cartwheel through life without a pain?
would l learn dire lessons that teach not twice?
would I discover hidden paths to the sublime?
would I see the disparity in wounds without scars?
would I have sweet memories to muse over in old age?
would I know the extent of God’s love and protection?
would I stock the relics of dying embers of sleeping fires-
when the darkness settles in and senility closes in?
when the visions of earthly things slowly grow dim?
when childhood memories would take all pains away?
when at last death hums its lullaby to lure me to sleep?
when my heavy eyes would forever close on all absurdity?